Chapter 14

Han Ya hadn’t noticed at all that Horne’s mind was completely elsewhere. He turned to Horne and said, “Your injury has healed nicely. Last time I saw you, I thought you had no interest in Hels’s holographic game.”

Horne didn’t speak. Ains answered his question from the side. “Brother is participating in the game for my sake.”

“Oh?”

By the time Horne spared a sliver of attention and recalled Han Ya’s earlier words, he asked, “Kill Order? The second one issued?”

Han Ya shifted his posture and explained, “Literal meaning. A worldwide manhunt, the highest honor. Only someone who poses a severe threat to the Aliens—one they have no choice but to eradicate—warrants a Kill Order. It’s been a hundred years; this is the second one.”

Posed a severe threat to the Aliens?

The Aliens… were afraid of him?

“Who was the first?”

“The first one…” Han Ya suddenly fell silent. His silence made the whispers around them noticeably louder, and a thick sense of suffocation welled up.

In this world a hundred years later, the only one who knew his name was Horne and had seen his face beneath the Mask was Hels. If Hels was an enemy, he would undoubtedly be troublesome. If a friend…

Horne couldn’t be sure. He glanced sideways at Ains, who was still looking around.

No matter what game it was today, he had to end it quickly, return to reality, and head to the Tower District.

Just as Horne thought Han Ya wouldn’t speak again, he answered.

“Xienobo,” Han Ya said softly. “Back then, both humans and Aliens feared it greatly because it slaughtered not only Aliens but also humans—especially the human government and military. But then it vanished. Mm… the Tower says it was killed. Who knows?”

As he said this, the woman in the red windbreaker beside him imperceptibly frowned and tugged at the hem of Han Ya’s clothes from below. Han Ya suddenly straightened his back and stopped what he was about to say next.

Horne’s lips moved slightly. Finally snapping out of the shock from the Kill Order, he incredulously latched onto a familiar phrase. “Someone who slaughtered the military?”

Han Ya cleared his throat unnaturally and added, “I don’t know. It’s just an urban legend, you know.” After speaking, he vigilantly scanned the surroundings and silently wiped the sweat from his palms on his pant leg.

Horne lowered his gaze to watch his actions and said flatly, “You know quite a lot.”

“Uh…” Han Ya didn’t know how to respond. He touched his nose, his gaze drifting to the side.

The woman in the red windbreaker beside him answered for Han Ya, her voice steady. “It’s you who knows too little.”

Horne was silent for two seconds before asking, “How long does a typical holographic game last?”

Han Ya immediately regained his normal demeanor. “It varies, depending on the matched game. Anywhere from a few minutes to days or even weeks.”

The staff announced entry.

There was still a room inside the waiting area. When the door opened, it revealed a pitch-black depth like a cave. The seated people stood up one after another and surged toward the door.

In the chaos, a gaze precisely locked onto Horne. His instinct for danger made him whip his head around. His eyes quickly swept over the crowd, but he only saw the bustling flow of people. Everyone’s faces showed different expressions—nervous, excited, or resigned to death. No one was watching him.

Ains tugged at the corner of Horne’s clothes. Horne withdrew his gaze and followed at the end of the crowd into the game hall.

It was unpleasantly dark inside, not just dim lighting—the sounds were absorbed into the walls, and the thick carpet on the ground ensured that even with dozens of people moving at once, it remained utterly quiet. Looking up, he couldn’t see the ceiling. Only white light strips on the ground illuminated the steps, barely allowing him to make out over a hundred game pods arranged in parallel rows on tiered platforms, like unhatched pupae or coffins.

“Please enter the game pods in order. Once you’re lying down, the pod door will close automatically. The system will assign your game. All rules will be explained automatically after matching. Have a pleasant game.” The staff’s announcement sounded robotic and stiff.

Horne and Ains found two game pods in the farthest corner.

“You lie down first.” Horne said. He stood by one of the game pods and watched as Ains climbed in and slowly lay down.

“It’s a bit scary here.” Ains looked at Horne, her hand anxiously clutching her clothes, crumpling them into wrinkles. But the entire hall was too dark; Horne’s expression was almost completely hidden in the gloom.

“You can still back out now.”

Ains immediately changed her tune and closed her eyes. “See you in the game.” It sounded just like “good night.”

The pod door closed automatically. Horne retreated to his own game pod. He had never seen these things before. In the places he remembered, the world had always been a mess of combat and survival—never any centralized entertainment, if this could even be called entertainment.

The transparent glass of the pod slowly descended, and at the same time, everyone’s game pods sealed shut.

A faint electric hum, and all the lights in the game hall extinguished in an instant, plunging into pure darkness.

“Hiss—”

Green gas released, mist gradually filling each pod like some kind of anesthetic. Horne only felt he didn’t hold out for five seconds before falling unconscious. Before losing consciousness, only four words filled his mind: quick battle, quick decision.

Pitch black, just like the hall when he arrived. Horne couldn’t sense where he was. He seemed awake but couldn’t open his eyes, seemed to be somewhere but saw only endless darkness. This darkness gradually coalesced into specks of dust, slowly floating before his eyes.

“Player, welcome to the DOL Holographic Game. Limb Cutter has been installed for you.”

Horne: “…?”

“Please don’t worry. This function is only for players who intentionally sabotage the game system or have special matches or special stakes.

“The system has randomly assigned your match for you.

“Match loaded. Players connected. Game: Dark Shop Street [2]. Number of players: 8; Game time: 30 hours; Difficulty: A.”

Eight people—within controllable range. 30 hours… Horne briefly relaxed.

“This is a cooperative match. Victory condition: The first player to complete both the cooperative task and personal task wins; second place gets no reward, no punishment; the rest receive punishments in descending order of intensity. Special note: If there is no winner, all players receive punishment. Hope you don’t draw the Limb Cutter.

“I will now explain the game.”

These voices seemed to ring directly in his mind; Horne couldn’t tell where they came from.

“Welcome to Dark Shop Street. The eight players, representing characters trapped on a street due to a shared event and having lost all memories. Player activity is limited to this fixed 500-meter street, with city gates open at both ends.

“Eight enterable houses are randomly distributed on the street, belonging to the eight players respectively. Each house contains items related to the player’s memory, which you can view yourself. Players can enter others’ houses but cannot see their personal memory-related items.

“Game objective: Recover your own memory, cooperate to piece together the event, and exit through the city gate.

“Game rule: No matter what, do not exit the city gate.

“Friendly reminder: Watch out for them.”

The moment the voice faded, light gradually appeared before Horne’s eyes. He opened them, and his vision slowly cleared. He took a few steps forward and froze upon recognizing the place.

The game location was a very familiar spot—a miniaturized Loch City No. 1 Central Avenue, a straight street from Loch City’s North City Gate straight to the Tower District, but not the full Loch City, just this one street.

Everywhere the eye could see were stars and galaxies, planetary rings formed from shattered planets and moons slowly drifting in all directions. Looking back from the side-by-side small buildings, there were cliff-like fissures, and below, still stars.

A street floating in the cosmic starfield.

Horne had just turned his head when he saw Ains running over, and at the same time, he spotted the others standing on the street.

Eight players: besides him and Ains, two women, three men, and a boy about Ains’s age. Coincidentally, among them was the wide-brim hat man, and the woman who had been sitting next to him earlier.

As Horne’s gaze swept over, the wide-brim hat man waved at him and mouthed: What a coincidence.

The people he encountered were coincidental, and even the randomly assigned game was coincidental. Searching for memories in Loch City?

One burly man in a T-shirt reacted and immediately grumbled in dissatisfaction, “What the hell? What does this game rule even mean? The objective is to exit the city gate, but the rule says no matter what, don’t exit the city gate? Playing with us?”

The North City Gate was beside the Slum, wide open, revealing only thick fog outside. The south end was the same; they were in the center, sandwiched by these two fog banks.

The street was eerily silent. Besides the eight players, there was no other living thing. The outer walls of the houses on both sides were painted in various colors, each mottled to different degrees.

The wide-brim hat man cleared his throat and took the lead. “So, we should go to our respective houses to find clues now?”

“Probably?” someone chimed in.

Horne ignored their hesitation and headed straight for the houses on either side with Ains.

He didn’t have much time to waste.

Though the houses along the street were shoulder to shoulder, most doors were models without handles and couldn’t be entered. The eight players’ houses were marked with names at the doors, making it easy to find his own as he walked along.

Horne led Ains to the two-story house with her name on it and nodded at the door with his chin. “Want me to go in with you?”

Ains hesitated for a moment, then shook her head. She then did something unexpected.

She took off her Mask.

Horne was stunned for a moment. Ains winked at him, dangled the Mask in her hand, and grinned. “You won’t get detected for removing the Mask in a holographic game, because it’s all virtual anyway.”

Horne understood and nodded lightly. Ains pushed the door open and entered her room; her voice grew fainter. “I super hate this thing. Finally, I can take it off for a bit.”

500 meters, eight people—the whole street felt eerily empty. The wind brushed against the skin, somewhat itchy, but stopping to feel carefully, there was no wind, no environmental noise that should be in nature, just thick silence.